Prague - the Velvet Revolution

Our tour guide Olga explained that the Czech people are not religious, pointing to the many churches we passed along the way. We noticed that there were lots of concerts advertised in front of these magnificent structures and she told us that’s mainly what they’re used for now. In the context of her tour, there was a logic to it.

Until 1985 what is now the Czech Republic was controlled by the Soviet Union. For two generations any religious observance was ridiculed if not actively put down.

The word “God” was forbidden in media of any kind. Churches became property of the state and used for storage or concerts, but often simply closed. This apparently has had a major impact. Today, the percentage of self-described “non-religious” is close to 75%. This includes people who do not even baptize their children or have church weddings. Olga mentioned that the only time she’s seen a wedding in church, for example, is on American TV or in the movies.

Many of the great churches we saw had been built as Roman Catholic dating before the 1500’s as shrines to saints with wonderful histories. She told us of one story where an early King Wenceslaus (not the good king of Christmas carol fame) suspected his wife of infidelity and forced her confession to the Archbishop, John of Nepomuk. Hearing her confession, the Archbishop refused to divulge the information to the Emperor since all confessions are sacrosanct. The furious Emperor had the Archbishop tortured, and while still resolute in his denial, hung over the side of the Charles Bridge and flung to his death. It was said that as he hit the water five stars appeared around his head. His statue is a common site around Prague and recognized by the brass stars that still surround the many heads of St. John. Olga told the story dutifully, and shrugged.

Despite her clear feelings about religion, I detected a bit of national pride when she later pointed out a statue to Jan Hus, who started the Protestant Reformation almost 100 years before Martin Luther. Hus is historically overshadowed by Luther because of the larger impact of Luther’s work. But Hus was first, Olga said shrugging as though such things mattered, and we walked on. Hus was burned as a heretic by the Roman church but over the next generations 90% of the people adopted his reforms breaking with Rome eventually and the majority became “Hussites.”

The Protestant era ended abruptly when Europe’s 30 year war established Austria’s Hapsburg Emperor over Bohemia and Moravia (now Czech Republic). The Austrians were devout Catholics and as is the sovereign, so are the people. Protestant churches were changed almost immediately to Catholic. Clergy had the choice to emigrate to Protestant Europe or be burned. I suspect the people just shrugged. Never the less, the Rococo style favored by Austrian Catholics became vogue as visible changes to the scenery glossed over sentiments that lay beneath.

It was also during this period that a small statue was donated to the Catholic church that had been in a wealthy, prestigious family for generations. This statue of the infant Jesus has a wonderful story attached to it originating in Seville, Spain. Its travels and healing abilities became the stuff of legend and now known as the Infant of Prague holds a special place in the religious terrain of the world wide Roman Church, and perhaps somewhere in the hearts of the Czech people.

By the time the Soviets came, the Czech people had what appears to be a skeptical religious history of being told what to think and believe. One gets the sense that the shrug hides the true beliefs and beneath the denial is a pride of the heritage and contribution to the world’s religious topography.

People come to faith. They are not pushed or pulled. Compliance does not indicate adherence. Olga used the term “Velvet Revolution” to describe Czech independence from Russia without major bloodshed. As they continue to rebuild their country and identity, who knows what directions their faith and use of churches may take. But one thing is for sure, no one is going to force them.

Ulm and Munich and Prague - O My

After Taize my original plans were to go to Chartres outside of Paris. I had my train and hotel reservations in order and then a strange thing happened. During the silence of the Taize prayer service, that inner voice came to me and said, “I don’t want to go to”. All that day I had worked to make those reservations. The internet wasn’t working right, the machine that provided phone and internet cards was down. When something is right, plans usually fall into place. When each step along the way seems forced, it’s time to reconsider.

Finally, after a couple hours of frustration and forced actions, I had the reservations. It was later in the quiet of the prayer that I listened to what was deeper. I cancelled my reservations in favor of the unknown. I told my new friends in the Taize group this latest development. Then one of them, a German, said, come with me to Germany, I’m driving. It was that simple. I still didn’t know how the schedule would shape up, but it was time to let go of scheduling and see what happens.

Volker and I drove with one of the Permanents from Taize whose time had come to a close - ironically for that title. The six hour drive from Taize to Ulm was full of talking about our experiences and companionable silences.

The side trip to Germany allowed me to do two things I had not thought to be able to do. The first was to visit a good friend who moved to Munich from New Jersey about a year ago. The second trip to Prague was a rather last minute decision to join up with some other friends from Massachusetts who were part of a tour going from Prague to Vienna with stops along the way.

My handy Eurail pass allowed me to make these changes in itinerary without any problem. I enjoyed the spontaneity and have become quite enamored of traveling by rail. Flying doesn’t let us see all the subtlety that land changes offer. Houses and towns, fields and lakes roll by from country to country with a character all their own. The distances are not so great that it’s a burden and it’s calm - for the most part.

Crossing the German border into the Czech Republic we were going through a beautiful, dense forest when the train slowed and stopped in a small town with a run down station. Police came on and with no English motioned for us to get off. I remembered to breathe, though also remembered having detoured from my original plan, no one knew where I was. We were loaded onto busses and traveled for about 30 minutes, without explanation. Brought to another train station, we were told to board with another person’s cryptic English. The train was more rustic than the first one, and smelled of stale cigarette smoke. We made it to Prague but I still don’t know what that unscheduled stop was about. I met up with my friends from Massachusetts and was able to tag along on their tour of the city.

The trip is taking some other spontaneous detours as a result and I’m glad. I used to be nervous about making connections - or more to the point missing them. But the trip has been easy when I let it be easy. Self imposed deadlines and schedules get in the way of some really wonderful blessings. Meeting friends and spending time with familiar people in unfamiliar places is a magical treat. Exploring and discovering is part of the spiritual way and over planning can threaten some of it. Travel, like faith is moving ahead confidant in the ability to find the way or be guided, it doesn’t always require a blueprint. In fact the blueprint will likely block the view of subtlety and magic in the uncharted path.

I’ll make it to Chartres, but after the rich experience of Taize I needed a break to process some of it. To go immediately into another very different spiritual setting would have been too much, almost like eating fudge after chocolate. I don’t know exactly where I’m going after Prague, and that’s just fine.